Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

I'm Not That Kind of Doctor (Barton x reader)

Clint was now cursing every single member of the team that was waiting for him below, growing more and more pissed off that he had been right all along and that no one was believing him. Of course, the comms were silent when he could use a little help more than ever, but he wouldn't be able to call out to them without you hearing it and raising even more concern as to who he was. Speaking of that, who the hell were you anyway? You sure seemed awfully protective of whoever this guy was in room 624, and suddenly you weren't the only one sounding suspicious.

"Is it common for nurses to question doctor's orders around here..." he paused, leaning forward to get a better look at your nametag, "(Y/N)?"

You returned the gesture, but when you leaned in towards him, you took it one step further and reached out to grab his tag, pulling it from his coat and into your hand. "Yes, it's common to do when I'm in charge and I haven't heard plans to move my patient, Doctor...Rogers. Really? That's what you're going with?"

"What? That's my name!"

"Sure, whatever you say-"

"Doctor! We need your help over here!"

Clint stood in place, waiting for the rest of your sentence and to continue your argument, but nothing more came. Your eyes widened as you stared back at him when he wasn't getting the urgency of the call that came from behind him, and when he didn't make any move to answer it.

"That's for you," you snapped, lunging forward to run past him, grabbing his arm to lead him along with you.

"Woah, I don't think so!" he laughed, albeit nervously, yanking his arm from your grip. "I don't think they meant me!"

"Do you see any other doctor standing here?"

"I don't see any doctor standing here," he groaned under his breath. "Look, you're just gonna have to call someone else, because I need to move this guy right now."

"You're not moving anyone until I get this figured out, so you need to get over here and help...now." Once again, you took his arm and forcibly pulled him along. You could feel the muscles of his arm tense under your hold, and that he was doing his best to slow your progress towards the room where he was being summoned, but your determination was stronger and he wasn't about to get away from you this time. Once you had him past the threshold of the doorway, you took a stand behind him and gave him a firm shove forward, thrusting the reluctant fake doctor into a hot mess of a situation.

"No! No, no, no, no way in hell am I doing this!" Clint barked, trying to back up only to run into you. "I can't deliver a baby! I'm not that kind of doctor!"

"What kind of doctor are you? Every doctor goes through a rotation on childbirth," you challenged.

"I'm...a...I'm...whatever kind doesn't do that!"

"It's like riding a bicycle, just hop on!" You pushed him again, and when he resisted by planting his feet firmly so that he wouldn't move, you decided to improvise. Grabbing one of the stools from along the wall next to you, you pushed it behind him and gave the back of his knees a hard tap, making him drop back onto it so that you could move him right into the line of delivery. "There, all you have to do is be sure that you don't drop it."

"Ugh, oh my god, no," he grimaced, turning his head away from the worsening scene right in front of his face. Without even noticing, you had moved so quickly that he was wearing a gown and gloves to cover himself in preparation, coming back to his senses when you were securing the mask over his mouth and nose. "(Y/N), seriously," he said to you softly, "I can't do this."

"I'll walk you through it," you assured him, the hand you were resting on his shoulder giving him no consolation at all. "Okay, momma," you turned to the patient, hearing Clint groan from beside you, "go ahead and push."